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The Broken Ones	By : ChaoticReverie Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Hobbit, The Views: 2079 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or any characters affiliated with it. OCs are mine. I am making no profit from this.

Chapter List
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The sky grew darker, but the streets continued to swell with life. She made her way down the road the carriage had travelled, back toward Merchant's Lane. While the coin given to her by Frederick would be enough to feed and shelter her for a few nights, she would need to find her own way soon enough. To do that, she needed to find work. This place, the center of trade in Mabruk, was as good a place to look for it as any.
She approached the first stall, baskets of fragrant spices scattered all around it. The peddler called out to her in a thickly accented tongue.
"I am not here to buy," she began. "I am looking for work."
He frowned, shaking his head as he shooed her away, reaching out to the next passerby.
Faye sighed, moving past him and onto the next merchant. The result was much of the same. Over and over they pushed her away, sometimes quite literally, and as she strode her hope dwindled.
'Perhaps this is not the best place to search for work,' she thought to herself, trying to bolster her fading morale. Yet, she had few skills to offer. She was not strong enough to labour, and not trained in any trade. 'But I can cook… maybe a tavern, or an inn.'
So she passed Merchant's Lane and soon enough spied what looked like a pub. A group of rowdy looking men were gathered by the door, and she slid past them quickly, ignoring the crude remarks and catcalls they made. It was crowded inside, raucous laughter booming from every corner of the room.
Faye approached the bar, smiling at the young man behind it. "Are you the owner?"
He shook his head, motioning with his chin toward a taller, bald-headed man near the back.
She made her way there, weaving through the drunken throng until she came upon him. "Excuse me, sir?"
The man turned to her.
"Are you in need of a cook, or perhaps a barmaid?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "My wife's a fine cook, and I've seven children who work and live under this roof. There's no room for anymore, and I don't give handouts."
"But-"
He took a quick step toward her, brows furrowed as he snapped, "I'm not looking! Off with ya! I won't have you troubling my customers!"
"That is not my intention," she insisted.
"Then either buy a drink or get the hell out!" he growled.
Swallowing the thick lump in her throat, Faye turned and made hastily for the exit, a scowl marring her lips. The same group that had harassed her upon entering shouted to her as she left, one of them reaching out and snagging her wrist.
"Why the sour face, love? Stay awhile and I'll give you somethin' to smile about," he slurred suggestively, his grip on her tightening.
The others chuckled as she struggled, snatching her arm away. Straightening her stole she hissed, "Do not touch me!"
"You're lippy for a whore."
"I'm not a whore!"
"Really?" another man asked slyly. "Where's yer husband, then? Or your father? What kind of man would let a pretty thing like you out 'ere all alone at this late hour?"
Sorrow and self-loathing curled through her as painful memories from her past swelled to the surface again. Tears pricked her eyes. "I don't… my family is-"
"No father? No husband? Then where'd ya get them bruises from, ay?"
She paled, not having thought anyone would see the marks through her makeup. She recalled the rough, dirty hands that had struck her.
"That's what I thought. I'll bet you've been fucked by plenty o' men. What's a few more, ay? We'll pay."
Scowling, she reiterated, "I am not a whore. And I don't need your money. I have my own!"
"Where'd ya get it from? You earn it suckin' cock?" a third snorted, his remark making the other's howl with laughter.
Repulsed and humiliated she turned and stormed away, glancing back over her shoulder to ensure they were not following. Luckily they seemed too intoxicated to pursue her. She sniffled, wiping away the wetness that had tracked down her left cheek.
Not too far down the road she came upon an inn and was pleased to find the entry room vacant save a thin man standing behind a counter. She took a steadying breath and approached him. "Sir… I have only just arrived in this settlement, and I am looking for work."
He glanced at her with his dark eyes, his gaze lingering on her face and then trailing down her body. He shook his head. "We don't allow that in here. If you're lookin' for a place to go, there's an alley just down the road where your sort gather, and-"
"Forgive my interruption, but that isn't what I meant. I was hoping you might have need of someone to clean or to cook."
He seemed surprised by the statement, his eyes sweeping over her again.
A stout woman emerged from the door behind him. She took one look at Faye and spat, "No whores!"
"I'm not a whore."
"Lies! I know a whore when I see one! Throwin' on a pretty dress doesn't make you a lady. You're filth!"
She fought back more tears at the remark. "You misunderstand! I'm looking for honest work!"
"Don't trust 'er," said the dour looking woman to the man behind the counter. "She'll rob us blind in the night. They're thieves and liars, every last one of 'em!"
"I would never do such a thing!" Faye insisted, horrified at the insinuation. Why were these people so hostile toward her? She'd done them no wrong?
"Go on now, back to whore alley with you!" the woman demanded, waving pudgy hands toward the door.
The young girl turned and went, her mind reeling with shock. Was it truly so obvious to the people around her? She glanced at herself as she passed by a window, and through the facade of finery given to her by Frederick and the others she could see it: the pale shadow of a once vibrant girl. Her cheeks were hollowed, her eyes despondent. Is this what people saw when they looked at her? This broken creature?
She noticed the looks others were giving her as she passed them. Some glared with disgust and disdain, turning their noses up at her as though she were some kind of disease riddled vagrant. Others were looking at her darkly, with lust clouding their eyes. She could practically feel their intent. Fear coiled through her gut.
Faye choked on a sob, gathering up her skirts and rushing away. What could she do now? She couldn't travel. There was no way she would make it to the next town alone. And if she did, would the results be the same? Would they know? How was she to make her way in life when no one would help her? They looked at her and saw only her sins, and wanted nothing to do with her.
...............
The hour was late, and Frederick stifled a yawn as he stoked the fire. The girls were scattered around the room, some chatting amiably while the others sat in silence. They all turned when they heard the door creak open.
Signey eyed the shivering figure sadly, rising from her chair to meet the girl. Faye all but collapsed into her arms. "Come along, love. Let's get you settled over here where it's warm."
Sniffling as she was maneuvered into a chair by the fireplace, Faye shook her head, blinking wide, watery eyes as she uttered lowly, "I don't understand. No one… no one would help me. Why?"
Signey stroked her back gently as she wept. "It's not your fault. They don't know what we've been through, they don't understand our plight. To them… we are shamed women, and there is little room for us in their world.
"What am I to do now?" she whispered, never having felt quite so lost. She finally had her freedom, but it seemed there was no place for her in the world any longer.
"Don't give up," Dotty told her. "Those people out there, the ones who turned you away, don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you fall. Be strong and you will find your own way. You don't need their help."
"I'm sorry you had to be put through that, but sometimes it is best to see for yourself just how cold the world is," Signey uttered lowly. "You know that there is a place for you here; a safe place? Why not stay?"
Faye regarded them all with watery eyes. They were so kind, but was this really the place she wanted to settle? Right back into a role she had only just freed herself from. "How is this any better?"
Yusraa smiled sadly, reaching out to grip her twin's hand. "You're not like us, I can tell. For us, this life is all we've ever known… but it was worse before; far worse. Before we came here we were property. We had never known freedom, had never been taught anything different. Now we have a choice. We stay because we want to stay."
May nodded. "This life - this place - it offers its own freedoms. The door is never locked, and we are able to come and go as we please. We take care of one another; we're a family. Freddie saved us."
Faye glanced at the man, wondering over his reasons. "Why? Why do you do it?"
He stepped away from the fire, leaning the poker against the mantle. "I was once a slave myself," he admitted, moving to stand closer to the girls. "My master was a vastly wealthy man, but he was cruel and depraved, and mistrustful of everyone. He had few servants, and no family. He felt that anyone who tried to get close to him was only attempting to rob him of his wealth."
A look of mixed amusement and disgust crossed his face then. "Heh, and he was likely correct. He was a deplorable beast of a man, fat and ill-tempered. I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to be close to him. He kept company with a scarce few men, and they were every bit as perverse as he was; rich drunkards without morals."
The young girl clutched tightly at her covering as his expression pinch in pain, and her own horrid memories began trickling back. She pushed them away, waiting for him to continue.
"He used to share us with them, and if we struggled or protested… we were punished. When I was fourteen I watched a girl get beaten to death for resisting when they tried to rape her. For years we suffered, working ourselves nearly to death while fearing for our lives."
Frederick laughed then, a bitter sound. "One night I was feeding the horses and another servant – a young girl named Morwen – came to me. She told me that our master was dead, having choked while gorging himself during the evening meal - a most fitting end for such a gluttonous man. I remember returning to the house, seeing him lying on the dining room floor, his face blue and his eyes red from strain. I remember the shock, the joy… I was free. Each of us took a pair of horses and loaded them with as much coin and as many valuables as they could carry… and we left. We considered it payment for a life of drudgery and pain."
Faye watched him as he spoke; now understanding the sadness she had read in his expression before. He had experienced his own horrors; he knew what she had gone through. Yet… why would someone who'd lived as a slave open a brothel? She decided to ask him. "Why did you create The Thistle? It… seems rather odd."
He smiled at her. "I suppose I could have used the money to buy myself a property somewhere quiet… but all I could think about was that poor young girl… about how she had died for nothing, and I knew there were so many more of us out there who would meet the same fate. I got lucky… but most will never be given the chance that I was given. Most of them will never gain their freedom. Many are too afraid to even try… because it is as they have told you. This life is all we have ever known, and finding your place in the world is hard when there is no one to help you."
He spread his hands. "I wanted to give them the chance that I was given. That is why I built this place, to offer others like me a way out. A place where they can feel safe, a place where they can get the help they need to one day make it on their own."
She pulled her fingers through the thick, mottled fur, asking softly, "So… eventually… people leave this place?"
"If that's what they want," Dotty spoke up. "To some of us this is home, but there have been many others who have moved on."
"And… they're happy?"
Dotty smiled at her. "We hope so. We don't always hear from them again after they go… but some of them write… or come back to visit from time to time."
"What do they do… once they leave?"
"Whatever they want. Millie – she was young, like you – she has a bakery in Bree now. And Darla married; she and her husband have a chicken farm up north, by the East Road," the older woman went on, smiling wistfully. "She's expecting her first by the time the snow falls."
Signey turned and knelt by Faye's side then. She placed a hand on the girl's trembling fingers. "The choice is yours to make, no one can make it for you, but you're welcome to stay if you want to. We'll take care of you. We'll help you find whatever it is that you're looking for, whether it's a home… or a way out."
Faye considered her words, weighing them carefully. After everything that had happened to her… it was so hard to trust again. "I'm… I'm afraid."
"We all were," Signey whispered. "There's no shame in that. We're not here to judge you."
She looked around the room at the patient faces that surrounded her, feeling a sense of belonging. She hadn't felt that way in years, not since she'd left home. Perhaps… perhaps this truly was the best place for her now, at least until she found another way. These people… they were good people. They would help her.
Decided, she looked at Frederick with tired eyes and told him that she would stay.
"Well then," he said with a gentle smile, "we'd best get you settled. Welcome home, Faye."
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The Broken Ones